Page 10 of Bride of the Fae Duke

‘Good gracious – yes, ofcourse.’ He let out a befuddled laugh as he dropped back into his seat, raking ink-stained fingers through his reddish hair. ‘That is very thoughtless. Those used to be stored in the room your sister is now sleeping in – Mrs. Hartnell must have moved them back into the dressing room prior to your arrival. I’m so sorry, Lady Locke. I’ll have them taken out as soon as possible.’

‘Thank you so much.Somuch.’ She buried her face in her hands, trying to wipe the image of those dresses from her mind’s eye and managing poorly. ‘I’m sorry, I promise I’m not usually this weepy. I just …’

He let out a mirthless chuckle. ‘You haven’t struck me as particularly weepy so far. I’ll be the first to acknowledge this household could grate on anyone’s nerves.’

Knowing she wasn’t imagining it made her feel better and worse at the same time. Since she wasn’t quite sure how to makethat point, she sat up, smoothened the skirt of her pale yellow dress, and sheepishly repeated, ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure, Lady Locke.’ He hesitated, then slowly added, ‘You wanted to ask me something, you said?’

‘Oh yes. Yes, please.’Tell me how I survive this trap– but if he knew the answer to that, Locke wouldn’t have had to marry her in the first place. ‘I was wondering … have you been with Lord Locke for a long time?’

‘Nine years now, give or take.’ If he was surprised by the question, he hid it well. ‘But I’ve known him for much longer. I used to work for his uncle, you see.’

Nellie blinked. ‘His uncle?’

‘Good old Sir Percival.’ A smile slid over his freckled face. ‘He was the one who saw potential in me and trained me to be his steward. Then after he died, Othrys offered me this position. So I know the family well, which is what I think you were asking – I owe them everything, frankly.’

That was sincere fondness in his voice, wasn’t it? A man who knew the family well, a man who wouldn’t think ill of Lord Locke if he could possibly avoid it.

Nellie tucked that little observation away with the few other facts she dared to be sure of. ‘Then you’ve known the previous ladies as well, I presume?’

He sighed. ‘Yes.’

‘And … and their deaths …’

‘Ah,’ he muttered, giving her another of those cheerless, apologetic smiles. ‘Of course. Yes, I can tell you more about the curse, if you are sure you wish to know.’

About the curse.

Not a moment of hesitation in his voice. Not a trace of suspicion or disbelief.

‘So thereisa curse,’ she blurted, feeling like a fool but unable to hold back. ‘You are really very sure …’

‘Of course there is.’ He looked genuinely surprised now, blinking at her with his red eyebrows halfway up his forehead. ‘I understand you’d prefer for it not to be the case, Lady Locke, but I’m afraid there is absolutely no doubt that there’s dark magic at play here. Trust me – we’ve gone over every other option over the years.’

Two days ago, she wouldn’t have believed it. Magic. Fairytales. But she’d seen Locke’s grim distress since then, and now there was this kind, intelligent man who had no reason to deceive her …

‘So who cursed him?’ she whispered, feeling like an even greater fool.

Walford gave a discreet little cough. ‘His mother.’

‘Hismother?’

‘Not deliberately, we think, but— Well, let me start at the beginning.’ He planted his elbows on the table, chewing on his thoughts for a moment. ‘When Cyril became Princeps of Elidian twenty-three years ago and passed the law that banned all magic wielders from the city, the late Lord Locke found himself in a difficult position. He’d married a fae woman. That marriage was declared void. He needed to decide whether he’d follow the new rules or fight them.’

‘And he followed the rules?’ Nellie quietly guessed.

‘Yes. Sent her away the very day after the law was passed. He was … not a sentimental man, Othrys’s father.’

Not sentimental. Through the lens of his unwavering loyalty to the family, she could only guess at the heartlessness that lay below those words.

‘I was here with Sir Percival the morning he made her leave,’ Walford continued, lowering his voice as if the maids might be listening by the door. ‘It was a whole scene. She wanted to take Othrys with her. The duke wouldn’t let her. And I vividly remember how she finally stormed out of the house, turned onelast time on the doorstep, and yelled at him that she would make sure he never found love again.’

‘Oh,’ Nellie breathlessly said. ‘Oh no.’

‘Yes.’ A grim smile. ‘Well, the old lord never remarried, so we all assumed that was that. He died a few years later. Sir Percival died, too. And Othrys married Isaure – very sweet, very earnest young woman, avid botanist, loved working in the garden. Cut her hand on the garden sheers one day and the wound got infected. She died of a fever before they were married a year.’

Nellie shivered, remembering the sturdy, practical dresses in the dressing room. ‘That’s horrible.’

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